


Wives Talk

by NorroenDyrd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crossover, Dialogue Heavy, Dialogue-Only, Gen, Monologue, Parallels, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Trespasser, Relationship Discussions, Unpopular Opinion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When trying to find a suitable place to sleep and search for Solas in the Fade, Lavellan stumbles upon an odd stranger and ends up having an even odder conversation with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wives Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This seemed like a good parallel to draw at the time, but I understand how this may be viewed as contraversial. While it is nigh on impossible to hate the Doctor (unless you are an evil alien with plans to destroy humans), a lot of people hate Solas, and for good reasons, too. Thus, they might be insulted by the comparison. I apologize in advance if that it the case, and ask that you do not make hateful comments. Personally, I hope that Solas may yet be steered towards the right path, just like the Doctor was when he had to make certain fundamental choices - but I respect those who do not share this opinion. I am not attempting to preach; I am just posting a curious little story that I came up with once on the crossroads of waking and dream.

After her eyes get used to the greenish murk of the crumbling, overgrown ruin, she flexes her shoulders, as though to give herself mental encouragement, and begins preparations. Finding herself a corner that seems relatively dry and removed from the powderings of soil that sometimes rain from the encroaching roots, she sets down her backpack and unfolds a small, thin greyish blanket; then, she thrusts her hand deep into the remote pockets and compartments and rummages through them, her tongue sticking out with the effort. After a few moments of intense fingering amond the folds of sacking, she manages to catch hold of what she is looking for: a lumpy little package of dried meat wrapped in broad fern leaves for better preservation.

 

'There,' she mutters, while unwrapping the package and getting to her feet again to place its contents away from her makeshift austere bedding, 'Always leave food for the giant spiders'.

 

She smiles to herself as she says these words: a wry, bitter smile that looks like a faded scar left by some age-old pain. The smile fades away almost as soon as it appears, however, and she returns to setting up her camp with a calm, business-like air which shows that this has long since become a habitual, routine practice for her.

 

But it seems that this day, the routine is to be broken.

 

She has finished appeasing the ruin's unseen inhabitants with treats, and is about to return to her blanket in the corner, when the only source of light - a gap between the two leaning columns that once marked the place's entrance - is suddenly blocked by a blurry figure, which steps out of nowhere and hovers on the threshold, turning its head from side to side as if in silent wonder.

 

She frowns, instinctively reaching for the dagger at her belt.

 

'You are not supposed to be in here!' she calls out sternly.

 

'I know!' a voice calls out to her, deep and melodious, while the figure begins to approach slowly. 'But I sort of veered off-course! We were getting some very interesting readings from your planet, and I could not resist coming down here to investigate!'

 

She frowns even deeper at the sound of an unfamiliar word, and whips out her weapon, pointing it shakily at the advancing stranger.

 

'You are not one of my scouts, are you?' she asks sharply. 'And what's a "planet"?'

 

The figure is now a few steps away from her. A warrior, by the looks of it - though the armour design is completely unfamiliar to her. It is mostly white, and consists of odd, bulky square shapes, with bizarre designs on its front, like many bulging, brightly coloured runes. The person bearing it seems to be a middle-aged human woman, with large clear eyes and a lion's mane of curly hair. The look on her face, as she regards the unfamiliar pointy-eared creature before her, seems curious rather than hostile - but that does not merit a drop in defences just yet.

 

'Ah, so you haven't advanced to space travel yet?' the white warrior asks, glancing at the dagger that is still being pointed at her, with a calm, mildly amused air. 'Well, you certainly look like a character from a Medieval fantasy setting... An elf, some would probably say. That is quite an impressive bit of technology, though. If we get off on the wrong foot, I might even end up scavenging it'.

 

With that, she nods at the elf's dagger-free hand - a clenched metal fist, attached to a clump of twisting wires, which end in a tight bracelet, a little under the elbow, with a glowing blueish design in the middle, which mirrors the one that marks the circlet on the elf's head.

 

Still unsure what to make of the stranger, the elf cautiously acknowledges the compliment.

 

'Thank you! A friend made this for me after I... After things happened'.

 

'Fascinating!' the woman cranes her neck forward slightly - and then, without warning, produces a small, triangular tool and passes it over the elf's arm. The elf recoils, startled by the faint humming sound that the tool makes, and stares at the human in utter bewilderment.

 

'Oh, don't worry, I was just scanning it!' the odd warrior chuckles. 'Just look at you - so startled that it's precious! You can kneel down and worship me as an otherworldly goddess if you like; I certainly wouldn't mind!'

 

To her apparent surprise, the elf responds with a weary groan.

 

'Not another one would-be god...' she mutters. 'As if Thedas didn't have enough problems!'

 

'What?' the warrior demands, her eyes lighting up. 'Your planet has been having trouble with would-be gods lately? That sounds... exciting! Can you introduce us?'

 

The elf gapes at her with a rapid succession of blinks, too dumbfounded to remember to point her dagger at the woman.

 

'You... You don't know about Corypheus? You must be completely mad!.. Or pretending to be...'

 

'Oh, I am definitely mad in many different ways,' the white warrior affirms enthusiastically. 'But my unfamiliarity with the goings-on on - Thedas did you say it was? - stems from me being... not from here. I come from beyond your world; you'll understand when you're older'.

 

The elf sizes the human up, once again taking in her outlandish armour and her humming 'scanning' tool - and presently declares,

 

'Oddly enough, I have seen so much and travelled so far in these past few years that I believe you... So, you were jesting about wanting to become a goddess?'

 

The woman grins mischievously.

 

'Well, even if I wasn't, I have competition, don't I? Corypheus?'

 

'Oh no, we have defeated Corypheus,' the elf says with a sigh, sitting down on her blanket and motioning the human to do the same. 'There is someone... different we have to face. I have to face'.

 

'Do tell!' the warrior exclaims, as she perches herself on a nearby mossy boulder.

 

The elf lowers her head, and begins to speak - and the wistful, melancholy tone in which she utters her words tells many things in itself. It soon becomes apparent that, despite her initial lack of trust, she feels compelled to confide in this stranger from beyond, because what she is saying has been growing and ripening inside of her for far too long, needing to be set loose like a river building up against a dam.

 

'Imagine someone,' she says quietly, 'Who seems almost as old as time itself. Someone who has travelled far and wide, who has seen kingdoms rise and fall, and civilizations clash with one another in an eternal strife for power. Imagine someone who, against his will, came to be revered as a god by some, and despised by others as a cunning, treacherous trickster. Imagine someone who is kind as much as he is wise, who abhors slavery above everything else, and will do anything to put an end to the power of the greedy, cruel few over the suffering many. Imagine someone who has had to deal a nearly fatal blow against his own people, because he was doing what he thought was right, and who has been living with the pain of what he has wrought for hundreds and hundreds of years. Imagine someone who is determined to undo the mistakes of his past, even though it might cost many lives; who is on the verge of making a choice that will unravel the whole world. Someone who is slipping into the same darkness as those he once stood against, but may still be saved from himself if he is reminded of who he is. Someone who may be warm and gentle as the sun, but just as scathing and deadly and merciless...'

 

'And who, like the sun, is so very hard to love...' the white-armoured woman chimes in, her expression suddenly as pensive as the elf's.

 

The elf looks up, with an unspoken question in her widened eyes, and the outlandish warrior glances back at her with an all too familiar, scar-like smile.

 

'I think we will have a lot to talk about'.


End file.
